Relentless Assault
by harkonnens
Summary: A seemingly innocent inquiry leads to something a little more than Light expects. Fang/Lightning oneshot with potential spoilers up to Chp.11; rated M for mature themes.


A/N; Please, please, please, oh God, please critic this to death. I've never written anything close to being smutty in the entirity of my life and thus I feel I need approval to go on - even if the smut has been purposefully dimmed for your imagination and so as not to seem tacky. I've tried to keep these two in character as much as such occurances will allow, but keep in mind that I wanted there to be a feeling that Fang is the more dominant of the two, breaking Light down (afterall, Fang always seemed the strongest within the game). Please bear in mind that this is essentially taking place at the beginning of Chapter Eleven within the game, however, the problem of their true Focus has been masked a little; I doubt there are too many spoilers for people currently making their first run in the game, but be cautious if you haven't at least trawled through the ninth chapter. Oh, and do enjoy, although I'm thinking the ending will either work as intended or just make you a little mad.

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_She hit me. _Her lips curled slightly at the memory, a smirk – she directed her mirth inwards. After all, wouldn't it seem a little odd to simply laugh out loud, especially when it was only her and Lightning awake? In fact, that would probably rouse Vanille, such a light sleeper. _Poor kid's been through enough already._ She shifted her weight, allowing her eyes to search out the Pulsian - her chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically. _No crying tonight. _Fang let her eyes fall to the ground directly in front of her toes, a sigh escaping from her mouth; the night greedily swallowed up the noise, leaving only a silvery wisp of breath to dissipate into the inky evening. She still didn't truly understand the girl's focus and this waiting, the counting down of her remaining days of humanity was a helpless pang of pain that Fang didn't know how to deal with, didn't know how to protect from. She shook her head, scuffing her foot in the dirt and muttering under her breath.

Lightning was sitting directly opposite her fellow watchman, brooding, stony-faced. Her attention had been focused on her hands, for now without gloves, the way the tendons stretched and relaxed, the musculature, the sensations; her concentration was broken by the foreign drawl, causing her head to snap up. To see Fang emotional and passionate was never unusual, but to see her perturbed as she was wasn't. _I can't be babysitting another liability. Especially not now_. At least that was what she was telling herself, that and that staring idly at Fang was more than a little odd and rude. She retracted her stare, instead choosing to push herself off the rock she had made her stool, kicking Snow in the side as though both were one fluid movement. He groaned, clutching his side as he rolled over,

"What the... Light, what the hell?" His face contorted in confusion, the fog of sleep still awash in his mind as he propped himself up, eyes heavy. The young woman let out a disgruntled growl as she stalked past him, her trajectory putting her on course for the elder Pulsian, whom she snatched at and dragged into the night,

"Get up, you're on guard duty." Snow cringed – his cries of opposition were half-hearted, a dog used to a good kicking. _No arguing? I must be doing something right with the punching. _Lightning half smiled, almost oblivious to the apparent discontent of her prey, wriggling to free herself from the soldier's vice-like grip around her arm.

Being stolen away into the night had always been Fang's idea of fun, a good time, but really? Lightning? She really couldn't fathom out the purpose of this venture, perhaps the stoic, embittered warrior wanted another strike at her face. She smirked at the thought. _She wouldn't stand a chance – she only hit me last time 'cause I let her. _At this she began to prize away the tacky fingers wrapped around her bicep – being dragged around like some pet lobo wouldn't do at all. She span her companion around, enjoying the return of her power, her gaze penetrating the elder Farron, pinning her down psychologically,

"What's got you all up in a tizzy, eh?" The huskiness of her voice cut through the tentative silence that had existed between them throughout the night's shift, causing the rosy-haired woman's countenance to falter slightly – she hadn't allowed for that question. No, she hadn't accounted for Fang to strike first. She frowned, feigning annoyance; really it was to distance herself from this woman before her. Her mouth became dry very suddenly and her words almost caught in her mouth,

"Nothing. I wanted to know how you're holding up," she paused momentarily, incredibly aware of Fang's roving eyes, feeling drained of any power by the concern she had revealed, "You didn't seem to be alright by the fire, I-" _That's enough. Stop. Quit while you're ahead, soldier. Careless. Careless. Careless. _Her self-admonishments went unnoticed by the Pulsian, however, who instead had turned to mockery,

"Well, well, well. Farron showing some emotion, eh? Oh, well, apart from being all dark and twisty," Fang began to circle the woman, her steps slow and deliberate, her proximity taunting her abductor,

"Thought I'd never see the day..." She chuckled nonchalantly, letting her voice trail off in the way her alien drawl often did, her scent enveloping Lightning, a dull, musky aroma that hinted at something more, it was foreign, exotic – it was Pulse. This was something Lightning should never have, could never have. Perhaps that was what attracted her, caused her to crave – maybe it was merely because Fang too was a woman; she tutted, the pallor of her blue eyes denying Fang any more perverse enjoyment out of her discomfort, occupying themselves with the dusty ground. _I didn't have to ask her. She should feel fucking privileged, getting all high and mighty with me! Tch. _Yet all the mental procrastination in the world could not let her escape _those _thoughts, would never suppress them. _She knows! _It was that realisation which panicked the woman the most, her dirty, little secret. She felt her heartbeat pulsing through her chest, the incessant, unrelenting thud of blood in her ears may as well have been church bells clanging directly above her.

_Ah, she knows I know. _Fang delighted in the mental torture, watched in growing enjoyment at her companion's inner turmoil, her discomfort – it was a sick pleasure, but one she revelled in. She constricted her circular movement; her extremities brushed up against Lightning now, causing her to lock up, stiffen. Goose bumps. Fang could feel the heat from her victim, see the hairs on the back of her neck straighten – her body was betraying her. To have such a hold over this, a wild, untameable beast, was heady, she was drunk on power – to act upon it was a release.

The drumming in her head had become impossibly loud, her breathing almost laboured. Fang's proximity was too great, too much. Her body felt overwhelmed. Overwhelmed but aching for more. Was it so wrong? The soldier stumbled over the scenarios, the ramifications, the pleasures that raced through her mind – this wouldn't erase the cold, hard facts; her time was limited, her focus was still clouded and hazy, there was no time for frivolities. Not now. Not yet. _Please, no more. Fang, stop. Stop. Stop. Stop._ It was unbearable, a suffocating pang of desire that she could not sate. Would not sate.

Fang's eyes darkened, a predatory glint ignored by Lightning, she drew nearer, her hand rising to lift the woman's chin. The time to play coy was over, the life of a l'Cie was generally short, limited – why was it that this one refused to make the most of it? Closer and closer, was it so hard? Her lips brushed against Lightning's ear, her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible but heavy with promise, with desire,

"I _want_ you."

Have you ever pulled a dog's tail? Noticed the almost instantaneous, reflexive snapping of jaws at your hand? Transpose that analogy to a woman so intoxicated by lust that she could barely think.

Lightning couldn't help it; she was not in control of her body anymore. Her hands, tacky, anxious had rapidly snaked around Fang's nape, dragged her body against hers. Her lips crushed against the instigator, her kisses rough, passionate, uncaring but for fulfilling her body's needs. She felt Fang smile against her, felt her previously passive hands grab at her hips - it was like gasoline to a flame, a giddy mix with often dangerous implications. She couldn't suppress her moan, felt herself blush. _What are you doing? _She could scarcely imagine how she could have let this happen, let alone be enjoying it. It was wrong. Abominable even. Yet Fang's touch felt so good; she was an incredibly tactile person regularly, but this, clearly, was very different. Her advances were fiery, confident. Lightning couldn't help but gasp as the kissing migrated down her neck, a cheeky tug on the flesh of her clavicle forcing something slightly louder.

Fang couldn't help but laugh in the seclusion of her mind. _Oh, Farron, you sly dog. _Ever since the soldier had slapped her in Palumpolum she had pegged her as one of her favourites, even if she was occasionally difficult. Unlike now. Right now she was being incredibly easy. _Easy. How classy. _The Pulsian didn't really find the standing up business too enjoyable though, neither did she enjoy taking advantage when clothes were involved. Her hands moved dextrously, efficiently unzipping and unbuttoning where required, tugging her lover's russet turtle-neck over her head. She felt Ferron hesitate, struggle against her as she pulled at the ties of the skirt,

"What's the matter? Scared they're gonna hear?"

Lightning slumped against the older woman momentarily before pushing her off, this time successful. _Stupid, Light. Stupid and foolish and stupid! _She breathed in deeply, desperately trying to quiet her racing pulse,

"I...Fang, this isn't right. We need to go back, get some rest and forget this ever happened." The soldier let her shoulders sag, the flush in her cheeks denied what she had said, she knew she wanted this just as much as the Pulsian, knew that it felt so, so right. Fang merely laughed, winding her tanned arms around Lightning's waist, gently pulling her close once more before sighing dejectedly in her companion's ear,

"Now, you wouldn't just go and leave me here, would ya? Especially now you've gone and got me all hot and bothered..." She reached her hand up to play with the l'Cie's rosy hair, entwining strands between her slender digits; her breath tickled across the woman's neck, followed shortly by a quick succession of light, airy kisses.

Lightning's lapse in judgement returned once more, swaying her to stay, to wallow in the temptations before her; she gasped at the pecks along her neck, keened for more, more contact, more of Fang. Lightning Farron, the strong, fearless leader, brought to her metaphorical knees by this, a denizen of Gran Pulse – to be released of that role felt so wondrous. She wobbled slightly, unsteady on her feet as Fang loosened her grasp, dropping to a crouch as she slid her skirt down, careful to help lift her feet out of it before tossing it aside. As the temptress rose, Lightning was already engaged in the task of dismantling the silken sari, soft and cool against her palms, warm and sticky – she moved with more haste than Fang, there would be time for savouring after this was all over, if it would ever result in anything apart from becoming a Cie'th. Fang, however, seemed lazy in comparison, idly thumbing the clasp of Lightning's bra, guiding her backward towards the rising knoll behind; she allowed her mischievous smirk to return to her lips briefly, only to shove Lightning towards the incline with sudden ferocity. And then she was upon her.

Falling. She was definitely falling. For a split second Lightning felt weightless. She felt free, easy, at peace. Then came the sudden realisation, the griping fear one gets when you trip unexpectedly. She hit the ground with a painful thud, the air forcing its way from her lungs with one sharp exhale. The raspy pain started immediately, grazing from the pointed rocks half submerged in the dusty ground. She winced. Yet she had little time to dwell. Fang was there. Fang was everywhere. Her roving hands caused her to quiver, her kisses left a burning trail across her midriff. She struggled to break free, to run, escape this amassing lust. She needed to be Lightning, not Claire. She needed to be strong, not weak. This made her weak. Instead she was pushed back down by the now dominant Fang, she hissed in response. Fang merely smiled insolently,

"Don't want ya running out on me now, do we?"

The blue silk of Fang's sari soon fell to the ground, slipping away from her to reveal a voluptuous figure, a figure Lightning could only take in in wonderment. Her eyes slid hungrily across every curve, her fingers gingerly tracing figures along the small of Fang's back, taking her in, memorising her very being. Yet her brief stupefaction dissipated, seemingly as soon as it appeared; those molesting, foreign hands, her bra unclipped. Her whole body seemed to be alight, her skin flushed a delicate shade of pink - her breaths were coming quicker, shorter now. The Pulsian had complete control. She had surrendered. Her train of thought was lost to the growing expectation, the tension which was driving her to madness; her lover kissed and caressed, flitted to and throw across her body, never lingering in one spot for too long.

_A navel piercing? How'd I miss that? _Fang couldn't help but find it amusing, her breathing staggered as she suppressed a laugh, allowing herself to slip lower down her victim's body, fingers toying with the elastic of her black underwear. She took note of the sharp intake of breath, revelled in this teasing; her lips moved to the woman's inner thigh, her tongue curled as it dragged upwards. Lightning's hands running through her hair, fisting as she explored further. She took in the faint, sweet scent of Lightning's body, a delicate sheen of sweat making her alabaster skin seem iridescent in the silvery luminance of the night. She returned to the underwear once more, dragging it slowly, at an impossible and frustrating pace, down past Lightning's knees, the feel of cotton across naked flesh instigating a flush of goose bumps across the woman's body.

"Please...," that was all she could think now, a shallow, mousy pleading which slipped from Lightning's mind to the outer world without any concerted thinking. Her hands flexed through the raven wisps of the Puslian's hair, exerting a needing, yearning pressure to move Fang nearer to what she wanted. Her body was erratic, malfunctioning; she could feel herself almost pulsating, the blood pumping faster, the sensation of tingling spreading outwards. And then she was there and Lightning couldn't think of anything anymore. Any sentient thinking was seemingly suspended. She gasped for air, floundered in the rapid fire of her synapses, the ministrations of her lover. The sinew and flesh of her back reflexively arched, pushed her nearer to Fang. Her skin grew sensitive. The imprinting of the multitude of stones in her back ached, but the pain did little but drive her wilder. Her hands drew nearer to herself, only to be slapped away, eking a frustrated whine from the woman – she needed this now.

The pleading of her companion only encouraged Fang to go slower, to take it easy. She wanted this woman to remember these impulses, these pleasures, vividly and for a decent amount of time. She wanted Lightning to come back, to beg for more. She wanted dominion over her. Her tongue was particular in its movements, alternating between light and hard, tracing circles over and over. Her dark eyes flicked up, following the curve of Lightning's breast, satisfied at the sight of her lover's head lolled to one side, her hands so desperate to do more than struggle with her cherry blossom tresses. This power gave her a perverse fulfilment. She inhaled the l'Cie's primal aroma, it was aromatic, spicy even, it teased her nostrils, intoxicated her. Her taste was no less subversive.

Farron squeezed her eyes tight, bit her lip so as to suppress her involuntary cries – yet the feeling of Fang inside her was a pleasure too great to deny. Her shallow breathing now grew into incoherent noise, quiet and low at first, rising in pitch as she gave in more to her carnal desires. She wanted this to come quicker, to envelope her in that blissful conflagration of synaptic overload. Her body gyrated instinctively, willingly, disregarding any sense of dignity. Fang had replaced her mouth with her fingers, slippery and fast, she crushed her lips against those of Lightning, suppressing the noises, the verbalisation of this woman's pleasure. She could taste herself now, a bizarre experience, but not wholly unlikable. A cinnamon tang invaded her mouth with Fang. She was so close.

Her toes began to go numb. Her vision was overridden by noise. Her hands splayed across the Pulsian's back, her nails arched, a mess of red lines adorning the bronzed flesh. She pulled away from the kiss, hot and deep, filling her burning lungs, only to be caught unawares of her body's climactic release. At first it was merely a growing moan, developing further, verbalising, becoming more human,

"F-Fang..." Fang grinned against Farron's neck, rising to suck lightly on her earlobe before whispering with unadulterated gall,

"I'm right here."


End file.
